


Forever Changed

by sharksgrin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Age Difference, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Comfort Sex, F/M, Grief/Mourning, How not to deal with feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Life-Affirming Sex, Loss of Virginity, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Romance, No Smut, POV Duncan for the most part, The Calling, The Taint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-10-18 01:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharksgrin/pseuds/sharksgrin
Summary: On the way to Ostagar, soon-to-be-Warden Cousland breaks down when the emotional impact of her family's massacre finally catches up with her. Duncan tries to help, but he has his own problem to deal with: the Taint that is creeping into his psyche. Somehow, against all odds, they end up giving each other what they need.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a fic that's been hatched nearly five years ago and has since undergone a row of metamorphoses. If you're curious, I'm posting a more detailed description of my troubles with it at the end, because it's probably not a good idea to talk badly about my own fic in its introduction ;)
> 
> Things you should know:  
> \- I'm veering slightly off canon with the effects of the taint and the calling. Because they weren't angsty enough for me :P. I figured an ongoing blight might have an infuence, what with the Old God wide awake and blighted.  
> \- If you're just looking for smut, you'll be disappointed. Back when I wrote the first version of the fic I wasn't comfortable with explicit descriptions. Later I tried adding it, but couldn't get it to not feel jarring, so I'm resorting to the classic fade to black tactic. Sorry.  
> \- The mildly dubious consent tag is there because Cousland is sort of addled at the time. If you're worried about that, full consent it given afterward.  
> \- unbeta'd. Please let me know if you notice any typos, weird wording or inconsistency.

Duncan, Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden, was not at all surprised.

Not that the past days had not held surprises aplenty. He had watched his new recruit methodically cleave her way through Arl Howe's soldiers as if fighting whole groups of bloodthirsty murderers was her daily bread. Which he knew for a fact it was not. He had been informed by her proud father, the Teyrn Bryce Cousland of Highever, that while she had showed great prowess in training, all her experience in real combat so far had been earned occasionally accompanying guard patrols out after roamig bandits, and in these instances she had been well guarded und under orders not to put herself at unecessary risk. Yet when castle Highever came under attack, she had fearlessly thrown herself at the invaders like a seasoned warrior, guarded only, if quite effectively, by her Mabari warhound and her mother's expert bowmanship.

Tears in the mail and padded jacket on her back, donned hastily over what was probably a nightgown, proved that lack of experience would likely have killed her, had she not taken the time to put armour on. But apart from bruises where armour had prevented worse, mother, daughter and dog had avoided injury while searching for the Teyrn and cutting down every attacker they encountered.

Sadly, their little group had not been enough to save the keep. The Teyrn had been wounded too gravely to be rescued, and his wife had remained by his side to keep off Howe's men and give Kiendra, Duncan and the hound enough time to flee the castle through a secret passage.

Duncan had admired the girl's cool, controlled effectiveness throughout the whole ordeal. Not only had she demonstrated excellent fighting skill and the ability to keep a level head in a dire situation. What had impressed him most was how she had left her parents behind without crying or arguing with their decision, and followed him into the escape tunnel without a backward glance. During the following days, while they made their careful way across cultivated land, avoiding people and wary of pursuit, she kept up the calm demeanor, seldom spoke, never complained and instead prod on with grim determination. While he saluted her composure, he had already wondererd when the breakdown would come.

With all the gruesome events and then the excitement and danger of being hunted, pushing her emotions aside in order to function efficiently was laudable, but it was only a matter of time before the shock caught up with her. In fact, he had been expecting it for a while. 

That was why that evening, after they had made camp in the forest they had entered the previous day, hidden away enough to finally light a modest campfire, get out of the armour they had worn nonstop since their escape, and warm themselves after washing in the ice cold stream bubbling quietly just in hearing distance, Duncan's eyes followed her when she went to refill their canteen. He did not fail to notice her faltering just beyond the area where the flickering light could reach. With his taint-enhanced senses he did not even miss the rigid stance, nor the supressed shaking of her shoulders. 

Pity squeezed his heart while he finished his task of building a bedding by covering the leaves he had piled up with his gambeson. The poor girl – no, he chided himself, stop calling her a girl. When had he begun to label any person under twenty as child? He himself had been conscripted at an even younger age, and he hadn't been a child for some time then. Circumstances could burn the childhood right out of a person. He sat down on his construction and returned his gaze to the shadowed figure.

Kiendra Cousland had in one night lost everything and everyone she had known and loved to one cruel, tracherous man's ambition. She had been torn from her safe environment and faced with life-threatening danger. And soon he was going to make her fight monsters, put her through a potentially lethal ritual, throw her into a full-blown battle and then lead her into a short, hard life of constant fighting and hardship. He closed his eyes for a few breaths to block out the painful sight. At this moment he almost regretted recruiting her, but necessity dictated his actions now more than ever. 

In hindsight, maybe asking her dying father for permission for her recruitment had been unnecessary, especially since she herself had been willing, even eager, to join. Precious moments had been squandered for that, moments when the family could have exchanged proper farewells. When had he become so hung up on formalities? Probably came with the position, he answered himself bitterly. He had become an old, jaded veteran who cared more for protocol than people's feelings.

He wished his age and position would instead present him with a way to help his recruit. He opened his eyes and sighed when he saw she had not moved an inch. Even having had time to prepare, he had no idea what to say to her. Honestly there was nothing he could do or say at this point to make things easier for her. He could hardly claim everything would be all right, could he? She had to work through her loss, accept it and move on. Later on he could only hope to steer her away from seeking solace in vengeance. With a Blight approaching, Grey Wardens could not afford to be distracted from their most important task.

He frowned with disgust. There he went again with the callous thoughts. Couldn't he simply permit himself to feel compassion for a while without bringing up The Darkspawn Threat? Maybe he couldn't. Maybe his duty was all that was left of him now. Maybe that was how it was supposed to be, for an old Warden. 

Grey Wardens were so closely tied to darkspawn, after all, that they became something similar eventually, if they didn't die as custom dictated. Images of Genevieve's decayed face were imprinted in his head and had plagued his nights as much as the Archdemon recently did. But even before that final transformation, the blood gradually changed them since day one. At first it made them stronger, more resilient, quicker to heal. Then it wormed its way into their minds, slow enough to slip past awareness. 

Only now, approaching his end, did he see it. Only now could he suspect that his current state of mind was not simply a result of a demanding life. Now he could hear it. He remembered old Wardens' descriptions of a song, but the voices he heard were not singing. Nor were they really voices, nor did he actually hear them, for they were already in his head, without his ears getting involved - barely audible whispers, urging him in his own voice towards horrible deeds. He heard them constantly now, stronger with each passing week, and agitated in the proximity of darkspawn. Looking back, he had to consider the sickening possibility that they could have already been there far longer, influencing him without his knowledge. It might be the Blight that brought them out now, or, in all likelihood, the Calling was finally upon him. 

Which meant that his resistance had worn thin, and so the taint's gradual poisoning had begun to erode everything good and human within him until he was a hollowed, dried up husk. The husk may still look intact for a while, but its only purpose would soon be to hide the foulness it struggled to contain, a mind overwhelmed by corrupted, ugly thoughts and feelings. 

Maybe that was why he relied so much on form, on duty. These were clear, rigid structures that could define him and keep him functioning when all else failed. Structures solid enough that they might even be able to outlive his sanity.

He shuddered, snapping back to reality. His thoughts were going to places he really did not want to visit at the moment, or ever really, and anyway, now was the worst time for worrying about himself. He had a task, he reminded himself. A duty. Was there something he could do for his recruit? That was what he was supposed to be working on. 

His own methods of keeping himself together wouldn't do. He suspected a sermon about duty would not be well received under the circumstances. Or, which would be infinitely worse, it might be too well received. He wanted her to let her grief out, not to continue supressing it, or it would eventually tear her apart from within. He had seen that happen, and to people who had thought themselves accustomed to dealing with crisis.

Kiendra was still in the same place, and it became clear nothing dramatic was going to happen for now. She made no sound, and was too still to be crying, despite the tremor. Probably just staring into the dark in anguish, which he still shouldn't simply leave her to. He envisioned himself strolling up to her and... say what? Ask „are you all right“, or „what's wrong“? Wouldn't that be just perfectly compassionate. The only worse thing to say had to be „there, there“. He should probably stick to „I'm sorry“. That at least was a phrase he had a lot of practice saying, he thought bitterly.

While he sat pondering, the canteen Kiendra was holding slipped from her hand and fell to the mossy earth with a thud. The sound startled the giant hound, who had followed on her heels. Duncan watched it prod her leg with its nose, whining softly. Her left hand absently stroked its head a few times, then suddenly clutched the short fur as if intent on tearing it off. The dog gave a protesting yelp, but did not move, looking up at his trusted mistress. It had to sense there was something wrong, and so it offered what support it could, maybe wondering what it had done wrong to deserve such treatment.

Oh well, Duncan decided, he could at least offer his own presence and relieve the poor animal.

He rose and walked up behind the pair, careful to make enough noise so as not to startle Kiendra. He need not have bothered. She was completely oblivious to her surroundings, the canteen she had dropped lay forgotten at her feet. One hand clutched a branch so hard the knuckles were visibly white despite there being barely any light. The other hand was still tearing at her dog's scalp. For a moment he hesitated, still unsure of what to say and whether his intrusion would be appreciated. Gently, resolved for now to offer support without being intrusive, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

 

###

 

Kiendra Cousland, on the other hand, was very surprised. 

She had, after all, learned her lesson well. She had subjugated her emotions, had not allowed them to get the better of her for years. She had thought her control, after all the training she had subjected it to, absolute. And yet now she could feel it slipping through her grasp like oiled rope. Why now? She could not afford to break down now of all times, when they had to hurry to Ostagar to face a darkspawn horde. She could not be weak. She could not become a burden for her future commander. He had to see she was reliable. She would not risk him deciding that she was unworthy of becoming a Grey Warden after all. 

And what the blazes was this anyway? She had managed to keep a close reign on her grief when she found her brother's wife and son dead, when she left her parents in a rapidly growing puddle of her father's blood, so why did she feel like crying now, days later?

It had started three days after their escape, after they had entered this forest and Duncan stated they were out of immediate danger. They had found an unoccupied hunter's cabin and pilfered several useful items, since none of them had had time to take anything from the castle except what they had on them. A faded tunic to replace her torn nightgown, a few rations of dried meat, a clay canteen and a ragged blanket, along with a threadbare sack to put it all into. Duncan had even left a few silver coins as payment, should the owner ever return. 

Later, as she had chewed on the hard, salty meat, she had idly thought of the more tasty food she had been used to being served, and it had occured to her that she would probably never enjoy anything quite like Nan's cooking again. She had chided herself for mourning something as trivial as her cooking when the woman was probably dead. Any less trivial thoughts of Nan being too distracting however, she had banished them to worry about immediate problems. Like how to avoid falling flat on her face by tripping on the uneven forest floor.

As she had wandered on, feet blistered and aching from the unaccustomed exercise of walking for days, she had suddelny remembered her soft Nevarran carpets, wondering if the bloodstains would ever wash off. She had felt momentarily amused at the sheer absurdity of the thought, then called herself an airhead for clinging to such petty things.

In the evening they had washed off the worst of the days old caked blood in a stream, and as she had watched the brown clumps she pulled from her hair dissolve and float away in the icy water, a melancholy had settled over her, and she had imagined she was watching her old life disperse in the cold and merciless flow of time. Irritated at such poetic sentimentality, this too she had shoved away.

And so, time and time again some unbidden thought or memory would worm its way into her consciousness, only to be squashed and pushed down into some back corner with all other thoughts and feelings she deemed unnecessary.

But now, in the near-darkness between the trees where neither the light of the stars nor of the campfire reached, she suddenly found out that corner must be situated in her stomach, for something heavy moved, writhed within it. All she had repressed must have congealed into that one thick, cold clump which now crawled upwards, clawed painfully at her chest and reached up to squeeze her throat, until finally it flooded back into her conscious mind with a vengeance.

While she had of course been intellectually aware of all that had happened, only now did the knowledge fully connect with her. The impact of it made her stagger so she had to steady herself against a tree, and that was the last she actively noticed of her surroundings. 

In the dark her eyes provided no challenge for the images her memory painted in front of her. She saw again the corpses of soldiers and servants, men, women and children – oh Maker have mercy, her sweet nephew! - strewn across familiar hallways, burning rubble blocking her way to the fighting she could hear over panicked screams and the roar of flames, and lastly her father bleeding out on the floor, her mother brave but suddenly so fragile beside him. Her last sight of them huddling together in the dark. 

They were dead. Really dead. Gone forever. Horror and loss flooded her, stunning her completely and relentlessly battering at her defences as it forced cracks into walls that had stood tall and impeccable since she built them. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly, trying to somehow stem the tide, not knowing where and how to begin.

The darkness around her was in motion, shapeless shadows intruding on her, whispering with the voices of the dead that she was alone in the woods, alone in the world, never to return home, because home was no more.

Fergus. His name flashed a white spark before her inner eye. Her brother had not been there for the massacre, he may be still alive. She wanted to cling to that hope, to nurture it, but then she remembered that Howe had known very well where he was going, and which route he was to take, The spark died in flight, and the darkness pressed back in. If the traitor could orchestrate the infiltration of a castle, surely he could manage to have one unsuspecting man on the road killed. To hope for anything else would be delusional.

She fought very hard to push the choking despair back, but the harder she pushed, the harder it pushed back. The effort made her body tremble, all muscles tightened and enlisted in the battle to not fall apart. Breathing became a labour, and she tried to use that to her advantage, to focus her full attention on it an shut out everything else.

She felt a hand land on her shoulder and her mind reeled in panic. Duncan! Of course he was wondering why she stood around in the dark, staring into space. What could she say? She could not let him see her like this. Blazes, she could not be this! Pull yourself together! Say something! Make him leave! Somehow sheer desperation helped her get enough air to press words past the lump in her throat, hoping they did not sound as strained to his ears as they did to hers.

„Duncan...I'm all right, just give me a minute...“

He didn't answer, but carefully pried her hand open to release something...Warg, she realized. When she looked down at the hound, at her only surviving friend, his compassionate eyes almost pushed her over the edge. With an impossible amount of effort she wrestled the tears back down and looked away. Her other hand was clutching at something as well, and it hurt... hastily the let go of the tree in a vain effort to pretend she had not been clawing at it, but only managed to shower herself with bark. Way to preserve her dignity.

Meanwhile Duncan was still standing right there, waiting for an explanation, no doubt losing patience with her weird behaviour. She sucked in another shaky breath.

„I'm sorry. I suppose I just got...hit by all that happened...“ She knew those were the wrong words as soon as the said them, for they summoned back the dreadful images. Her throat constricted further and choked her words off. There was no way she could speak when it was so hard to even breathe. Frustrated with her own weakness she felt a few wet trails on her cheeks despite all her efforts.

Still, Duncan sounded as neutral as ever. „No need to apologize. You have every right to be sad.“

Sad, yes, but not like this, bawling like an unreliable little girl. She had to get away from him before this got any more embarassing. Which it promptly did when he again placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled, trying to turn her around. No way. She would not let him see her face like this. But his grip was firm, and she wasn't steady enough to escape, and anyway. how rude would it be to shake him off... In her panic she whirled and buried her face in his shoulder. Oh great, fine plan. That was definitely going to convey how all right she was. Fuck that. Her pride gave up and left her battlements one defender short. 

Bitterly she wondered why she even bothered. Her dignity, her future, suddenly seemed insignificant against the backdrop of the tragedy she suffered and against the magnitude of her grief. A new wave of despair swamped her and she knew she was going to loose the battle. 

Duncan said something she did not understand due to the pounding of blood in her ears. But the tone was compassionate, not scolding or scornful as she had feared, nor did he push her away. He even wrapped an arm around her and patted her back.

There was little height difference between them, but the position was enough to elicit memories of fatherly comfort, reminding her again that her father was lost forever. A few dry, erratic sobs escaped her, shook her inside the steadying grip. So what if she broke down right here on his shoulder? If Duncan did not push her away now, maybe he wasn't going to? Could she even still prevent it? Did she even want to anymore? 

She briefly considered just pushing him over and running away, but the sheer idea of leaving his embrace, of being completely alone, sent a wave of fear through her that drowned all rational thought. The shadows renewed their whispered mantra of how forsaken she was, how small and fragile, alone and insignificant. Duncan's presence was the only shield keeping them away.

When he asked her whether he should leave her alone she was clinging on for dear life. Unable to speak, she shook her head violently. In response he firmly stroked her back. „It's all right, I won't leave unless you want me to.“ Faced with a lack of reasons for keeping up the fight, her last defenders threw down their weapons.

A wail escaped her, then another, physically painful as it pushed through the constricions on her chest and throat. She only half realized that she was moving automatically, being led back to the fire, that Duncan manipulated her into sitting down, never once letting go of her. Right next to her ear, he murmured: „Go on, weep. Let it all out or you will choke on it.“

The gentle tone of his voice was the drop that broke the dam, and she wept. 

She wept like she never had before, tears running constantly down her contorted face, whole body shaking with powerful sobs, alternating between wailing and gasping for air, letting in everything she had tried to keep at a distance.

First she wept for the dead, the scores of innocent lives lost, for the pain and horror of their last moments, for the sudden end to their hopes and dreams, for the horrid injustice of it all. Then she wept for rage, at Howe for his treachery, at his men for participating in such vile slaughter, at her own father for trusting the man, at herself for not noticing any warning signs, and at her own helplessness, her incapability to save anyone. 

Lastly she wept for herself, for her own losses and the crippling loneliness she would now have to endure.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a long time before the crying abated, less from the grief receding than having tired itself out. Kiendra drifted without thought for a while, feeling drained, weirdly disconnected from herself and the world. It was like she was floating on a sea of sadness, dark waters that had finally reached a brooding calm after a raging storm, and she drifted alone and battered, exhausted from the struggle of staying afloat and numbed from the cold water so much she couldn't feel the current anymore.

Heh. It appeared her mind had a tendency to make poetic metaphors involving water, when left unsupervised. Who knew.

Slowly paddling towards reality, Kiendra began take notice of her body, and immediately wished she hadn't .

Her abdominal muscles were still erratically spasming, which didn't help with the queasiness in her stomach. Her head hurt and felt clogged and heavy. Her eyes burned, the tissue around them swollen and sticky. Her throat was dry and sore. Underneath all that, several parts of her body, especially her legs and feet, pulsed with the dull pain of fatigue. In summary, she was a mess.

Duncan carefully leaned away from her, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly before he stood and left her alone. He rummaged around the campsite while her foggy mind still tried to assess her situation, and he made lots of noise walking to the stream and returning with the previously forgotten canteen. He pressed it into her hand and she drank carefully, the cold water wonderfully soothing her throat. When she lowered it, he immediately replaced it with a watered rag – a sleeve of her old nightgown, she identified dimly – all without looking at her face. Gratefully she cleaned the tears and snot from her skin while he settled back down beside her. A stain on his shirt cought her eye and she guiltily wiped at it, the sodden place where her face had lain. Great way to earn the respect of your superior, getting snot all over his shirt. Oh well, luckily the numb detatchment held her even past embarassment, so she found it difficult to care about anything past a superficial acknowledgment.

As if to accentuate that point, all the air she had swallowed with her sobs came back up in a massive burp. Well, at least that reduced the nausea. Then she sat, at a loss what to do, staring at the rag. 

Warg was lying only inches away, gazing at her with that look of complete adoration dogs were so proficient at. When she turned her attention to him, his stubby tail wagged hesitaitly. She stretched out her arm and petted the large head. „I worried you, didn't I?“ She croaked. „It's all good now, I'm fine.“ She was far from fine, but smart as the hound was, detecting little lies was not his strong point, so he accepted the reassurance. Happy his mistress was back to normal, he gave a contented sigh and closed his eyes. Kiendra kept stroking the short, bristly fur for a time, but, finding it strangely unsatisfactory, left the sleeping animal alone and reflexively leaned sideways toward Duncan. Immediately his arms came back up around her.

She marveled at how nice he was to her, how he was still willing to support her despite her display of weakness. Maybe he was simply such a nice guy, but he might be humouring her for some reason, though what reason that could be she could not fathom. It was too complicated a thought to follow at the moment anyway, so she abandoned it in favour of simply accepting the facts, and focusing on how she felt in his embrace.

It was a good feeling, warm and solid, an anchor for her aimless soul. Timidly she settled into a more comfortable pose, planting her head on his dry shoulder, and allowed herself to be supported, allowed her befuddled mind a break from making sense of the world. So she sat for a long while, almost dozing, simply letting the warmth of Duncan's body seep into her.

She didn't register exactly when it happened, but gradually she became acutely aware of that warmth and of the flesh that was exuding it, of the heavy arm across her back, of the steady heartbeat against her chest, of the beard tickling her neck and of the warm breath softly moving her hair. 

The sheer bulk of his body had been a stone she could cling to against the tide, albeit a very warm, soft stone. Now suddenly, it ceased to be a stone. This was a man, a human being with his own grief and joy. A human she barely knew. A stranger, but one who had witnessed her ordeal, who had helped and supported her when he didn't need to.

She wanted, needed to make this man not a stranger, to forge a connection between them so she would not be so utterly alone anymore. She shifted a little to allow more contact, pressing her chest more fully against his. 

He smelled of steel and leather, sweat and smoke. It was a good scent, a real, earthy scent. Spontaneously, following the urge to know if taste matched smell, reins of rationality still absent, she licked a line up his neck towards his ear. He tasted salty and bitter, with a metallic tinge and a hint of odd, sickly sweetness. Not exactly pleasant, but pleasantly intense. Before habitual restraint cought up with her, her tongue and lips were back on his skin, just in time to feel a muscle shift beneath it. She was utterly unprepared for the violent burst of desire it sparked inside her. 

Suddenly the two layers of cloth separating them were too much. Duncan was warm, solid and she needed him like she had never needed anything before.

 

###

 

Once again he noticed the change even before she did 

He observed how her heartbeat sped up, how she pressed her body against him, how her hands stopped clinging and started caressing. He smiled. This was a manner of coping with grief he was familiar with. And at last there was something he could actively do to help.

It was completely inappropriate, but sod it, he was not going to put her through what was coming while she was crippled by grief. Having her drink from the joining chalice in such a weakened state simply would not do. If he could speed up her healing process by sleeping with her he would. 

Or rather, he was willing to, theoretically, if he could only convince himself. The fact she had yet to signal in any way that she recognized what was her desire gave him some time to work through his misgivings.

Like the fact she was probably not entirely master of her own actions right now, and might not be happy with them once her mental capacities returned. On the other hand, it was just sex, and it wasn't like he could get her pregnant. He could live with her getting angry at him afterwards for taking advantage. Anger might even be beneficial for giving her something else than sorrow to focus on. Besides, he'd rather have her anger focused on him, and not her family's murderer. 

What if the opposite happened, though, he mused while she shifted even closer against him. From what little he knew of her, he doubted she was sentimental enough to develop a crush because of one fuck, but he was far from being an expert on matters of the heart. 

Oh, he'd just have to deal with one problem or the other when it arose. Either would at least give her strength.

Which led him to the most important issue: his own strength. Was he strong enough to withstand the now agitated whispers? The mere possibility of carnal pleasure set them off into a cacophony, unleashing a surge of perverted desires he had not yet experienced at such magnitude. But in a way, the sheer unfamiliarity made them easier to stake out as unwanted and consequently ignore.

To be sure, and to be prepared for the onslaught, he closed his eyes and imagined her body naked against his, his hands on her skin, gripping tightly, his teeth sinking hard into soft tissue.... no, no teeth. Concentrate. His body reacted immediately to the pictures, and he reigned himself in until the rush of lust abated enough to be managable. Meticulously he banished all images that went beyond what was considered normal. Yes, like that, gentle and steady. 

It helped that he probably reacted so strongly merely because of his own prolonged abstinence, and less because of any actual desire towards Kiendra as a woman. Her being so young as well as a potential recruit were partial reasons for that, but nothing had even stirred within him at the sight of her before he had actively thought about it. Not that she didn't have desirable assets, but she wasn't the kind of woman that made men drool just by being in the same room.

Her face was not exactly what was usually called beautiful, even in favorable lighting and not puffed up from crying. A long face with sharp cheekbones, a narrow mouth more prone to snarling than smiling, narrow, taxing eyes beneath thick, straight brows – the combination didn't make for an inviting picture. It was made worse by the scowl that seemed to be her default facial expression, or at least had been for the time Duncan had known her. 

Her straight hair was a light blonde without a tinge of red, so pale that it appeared white in the dim light. She artlessly gathered it on the back of her head into a short ponytail, which made her face look even more stern and somber. Her eyes, like the hair, were also very pale, more grey than blue. Along with her pallid complexion she appeared rather colorless, lifeless even.

Her voice didn't invoke erotic fantasies either, sounding strained and a little raspy. If he hadn't heard her speak before, he would have assumed that was an effect of crying, and naturally that had enhanced the effect quite a bit.

Duncan had always liked athletic women though, and there she did not disappoint. Years of excercise had given her a strong, muscular frame that wore heavy armour with as much ease and grace as other girls wore dresses. He found that and the small, firm breasts pressing against him with each breath sufficiently arousing. 

Of course he had to admit to himself that feeling her like this, imagining her like this, anything human and breathing would have been enough to arouse him. It had been so long since he indulged in carnal desires, always busy, always upholding an air of dignity for the Order's sake. How liberating would it be to finally give in.

And therein lay the danger. He could not allow himself to indulge, to be swept away by his lust, much less the deeper, darker impulses. Just thinking along those lines had allowed the whispers to grow stronger once more, and again he clamped down on them. Kiendra's well-being had to be his priority. As long as he kept that in mind he would keep control over himself, would not descend to what the tainted blood told him to do. 

He had to approach this like a task to perform, not a physical pleasure to enjoy. Which did not mean it had to be a chore. He could enjoy other aspects of it – the pleasure of giving comfort, the trust placed in him, his confidence in his own will. He could prove to himself that he was still human, still capable of warmth and kindness, not just an old, overly formal, callous doomsayer with voices in his head.

When he felt her tongue against his neck, he was ready.


	3. Chapter 3

„Feeling better?“

Duncan's voice vibrated though his chest, and from there into her cheekbone.

„Mmh.“ Kiendra could not bring herself to form words, much less a coherent sentence. It would involve setting her head back to work, and that was something she wanted to delay as much as possible.

She did feel better though. She lay cradled in Duncan's left arm, revelling in his warmth, in the loose bonelessness of her own body, and in the intimacy that connected them now. The headache had retreated enough to be ignored, and all bad thoughts were drowned out by drowsy lethargy of both body and mind. She still felt sore all over, but the trembling weakness of overused muscles had dissolved into relaxed heaviness, afterglow orchestrating all the noisy little pains into an almost pleasant background hum.

Absently she ran her hand through the thick, curly hair across Duncan's broad chest. How different this was, she mused lazily, from the handful of boys she had experimented with. Those had been soft and smooth to her touch as well as in the manner they touched her, reverently, softly, carefully. In contrast, Duncan had hair everywhere, she might have even felt some on his back, he was all solid muscle, and his skin was criscrossed with scars of all kinds. Everywhere her fingertips roamed, there were odd, new textures to explore.

And while he was gentle enough, he did not take special care not to touch her too roughly. Which was essential, because having him ask if she hurt every time he moved wouldn't have allowed them to get anywhere. Presently it was near impossible to find a place on her body that did not ache at least a little. She didn't mind. Pain was fine, she was as familiar with it as anyone who trained in fighting. Pain proved that she had used her body to its limits, which she found deeply satisfying. Maybe that played into why she had accepted it even now. More than that, she unexpectedly found it added to the experience rather than being distracting. She was a little taken aback by how much she had positively relished it.

In fact she now understood why she'd never felt inclined to let things progress with her little dalliances. All of them had been nice and considerate and made her feel cherished, but often in the manner of a precious but delicate vase. Probably her station, her gender, and inexperience, hers and theirs, had made her partners hesitant. She knew she'd been lucky, knew girls were happy to be worshipped that way. The irritation she felt was minor anyway, so, not wanting to appear ungrateful and unable to specify what she wanted to change, she had always ignored it. This time the feeling did not arise at all. Duncan's hands on her had been firm and strong in a way she had not yet experienced, always demanding attention, unrelentingly stroking or pressing or squeezing, calmly mirroring her own needy grabbing. Maybe it was silly, and probably just in her head, but it made her feel like an equal, a partner instead of a precious commodity to be protected.

Warm gratitude welled up as she pressed her hand flat over Duncan's chest to feel the pounding heart beneath. Even inexperienced as she was, she knew enough to appreciate how perfectly he had handled the situation. She had started out for a wild, quick and hard romp, but he had steered her towards something more controlled, sedate, without taking away from the intensity she needed. He had filled her world with touch and heat and movement until all else faded away, until she had

reasserted her place in her own body, in reality, in a present that offered something good despite all odds.

Right now however, reality reasserted itself in a more prosaic way.

Regretfully she disentangled herself from Duncan's arm. „I need to pee,“ she stated while she rose laboriously and staggered away on wobbly legs.

After only a few steps, hearing Duncan's alarmed hiss, she whipped around, struggling to mobilize her worn out body into combat, but he was sill sprawled on the makeshift bed, propped up sideways on one elbow, looking her over with concern painted all over his face. It was a testament to her weariness that the tension flowed out of her immediately, like water through a sieve.

„What?“ She asked brusquely, irritated to be shaken from her state of relaxed contentment.

„Are you injured?“ Some answer came to him even while he was asking, and his eyes widened in shock. „Don't tell me you were... no wait, that's just...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarass you.. “

While he floundered, her eyes finally followed his gaze to the offending smudges on the insides of her thighs. Oh, that. She shrugged. „I was.“

The look of horrified guilt spreading over his face as he sat up was almost comical. „Of course you were...You're nobility! Maker, I'm sorry, I didn't think...“ She interrupted impatiently. „ _You_ didn't think? As far as I remember, it was _me_ who pushed for this, not you.“

He carded both hands into his hair and rested his elbows on his knees. „But I should have suspected... there was no need to go so far.“

She walked the four steps back towards him. „Relax, will you? It wasn't your fault.“ Realising that implied there was some fault to assign, she sighed and acknowledged the need to elaborate. „I mean that nothing bad happened, so there's no need to apologize. I wanted it.“

He shook his head, eyes downcast. „It was my responsibility to make sure you came out of this unharmed. You were beside yourself, not thinking clearly.“

She shrugged again and sank to her haunches, hissing as her legs protested the strain. „Maybe I was. But I knew enough of what I was doing to know I needed exactly this.“ He didn't look like he believed a word, and immediately she was back to being the vase. The vase in the shape of a noble lady, all important decisions made for her because she was too precious to be allowed to run loose, and too dutiful to try anyway. She couldn't be that anymore, not now, not with him. She frantically searched for something to say that would make him understand and return to her that sense of agency and equality. Talking had never been her strong point though.

Frustrated, hands balled into fists, she complained: „Why can't my assurance be enough? I'm _fine_.“ And again, emphasizing every word as if she could press it into his head by force: „I. Wanted. It.“

He remained unconvinced. „I stole something precious from you on a whim. I should have known better, I did not even consider...“

Something precious. Ispiration struck her finally and she didn't wait for him to finish, snapping: „Stop it. I simply got rid of something unnecessary.“

That got his attention and he raised his eyes just as she focused hers on her hands, forcing them to relax and open. „Something unnecessary?“ He asked incredulously.

She took a deep breath, trying to order the spontaneous idea into something logical. „Look, I only kept my virginity for formality's sake anyway. But that life is gone now.“ Now that she had said it, she could see clearly how true it was. It hadn't been a conscious decision – she simply hadn't cared – but maybe deep down, she had already been aware. The vase, the lady, they had to go whether she wanted or not, and she wasn't sad about that in the slightest.

She turned her right palm up and traced her thumb along its callouses. She couldn't see them in the low light, but she knew exactly where they were, and how perfectly a sword's grip matched them. Her hands, and the sword that belonged in them, were what she'd live by from now on. For the barest moment she was overwhelmed by plain relief, before a mountain of shame and guilt crashed down on it, because all of Highever had paid the price for her freedom.

„Kiendra...“ Duncan's voice wavered. Not good. If he got emotional, she'd get emotional, and then she'd be one step away of falling apart all over again. Not happening, she decided. Once had been disgraceful enough.

„Well it is.“ She squarely met his eyes, daring him to disagree. „It would be anyway, the moment I become a Warden. The sooner I get used to that the better. My virginity was the last thing I had left of it, beside my meagre equipment.“ Her eyes searched automatically for the lump of shadows she knew to be her resting weapons - the shield with the Cousland laurels and the family sword she had taken from the armory mere days ago. She had left behind her own sword, which had been presented to her for her sixteenth nameday. What an exciting day that had been, a grand celebration, a few boys had even been knighted during the festivities... aaand there she was wandering off course. She took a deep breath and pulled herself from the fond memory, not without regret. At least it reminded her of something she had been taught on rituals of knighthood.

„Call it a rite of passage or something.“ She waved her hand dismissively, willing the man to just let the subject go.

Duncan, however, was shaking his head in disbelief. „That is...drastic. Sweet Maker, woman, did it really mean nothing to you? Isn't it usually a big deal for women, regardless of social standing?“

She rolled her eyes in exasperation and admitted softly: „It would be a poor rite of passage if it meant nothing at all.“

Immediately the guilt returned to his face. She patted his knee, hoping it was a soothing gesture. Why was it that now _she_ had to reassure _him_? „Is me wanting to break off from my old self so hard to accept? Isn't this exactly the kind of situation when one does that sort of thing? If I still had long hair I would dramatically cut it off, but I already did that years ago. Much to mother's chagrin.“

With a spike of pain she saw her mother wringing her hands over her girl's self-inflicted scarcrow hair, and before the memories could fully form and suck her in, she hauled herself back to the present. It was getting harder to stay there, she noticed. She struggled to concentrate on convincing Duncan he'd done nothing wrong, but her thoughts were sluggish, kept pulling her into the past. Also she was increasingly distracted by her bladder.

She gave it another desperate try. „Besides, we are going into battle. I might not even survive. I woudn't want to die a virgin.“ She flashed him a lopsided smile. „Isn't it normal to seek solace in sex before a battle? I think I overheard someone saying that. Or was that after...?“ All thoughts vanished when the urge to pee grew particularly insistent, sending a shudder through her body. „Ugh, look, can we put that aside for a moment until I get back from watering the bushes? I'm bursting.“

With that she rose, wincing at the uncomfortable pressure and aching legs, and shuffled away as fast as her unsteady knees allowed.

 

###

 

Duncan watched her leave, amused disbelief tempering his guilt.

Was this really a noblewoman? Pragmatic and straightforward, speaking freely of sex and peeing, walking around naked unashamedly and with her virginal blood smeared on her legs... then again she basically had told him to shut up and stop questioning her decision, so there was at least some noblewoman in there.

He sobered. What was he to do now? Just ignore the matter as she requested? After all, what would talking even accomplish, now that the deed was done? Possibly she was just repressing her emotions again. But even then, was this the right place and time to work on that? In the great scheme of things, this was a minor problem. Was is better to confront it now, so it didn't fester? Or should he allow her some rest and return to the matter when she was generally more stable?

He rubbed a hand across his eyes. And there he'd been believing everything had played out so well. He wasn't equipped for this. There was no manual for Warden Commanders for how to deal with griefstricken female recruits they had just deflowered. Then again, there was also no manual for how to hastily rebuild a nation's Wardens in the face of an impending Blight, and he'd had to figure out that one, too. Among other things. Such was his lot in life. Easy tasks were what happened to other people.

When Kiendra returned, she took a long drink from the canteen before pouring water on a rag – another piece of her former gown – and wiping the blood from herself. She unabashedly cleaned Duncan as well, ignoring his feeble protests that he could do that himself. Then she fetched the threadbare blanket and threw it at him. She paused to scratch her Mabari behind the ear, then knelt beside the fire and poked it back into life, slowly adding twigs so as not to choke it. Duncan wrapped the blanket around him and watched her move about, allowing her to decide whether to return to the conversation. Finally she sighed, busying her hands with skinning and picking apart a twig.

„I meant what I said.“ She muttered, still staring into the fire. „I'm not holding anything against you. I'm glad it happened this way. Even if it was kind of an accident. A good kind of accident, I mean... like when noone gets hurt and everyone ends up laughing because it was ridiculous? Only it wasn't ridiculous. Also, earlier I sounded like I would have jumped into this with anyone, I didn't mean... Well, in my sorry state maybe I would have, but...“ The twig lost inch by inch of its length as she broke them off and threw them into the flames.

Duncan patiently waited for her to finish her train of thought, slightly amused but sympathetic to her troubles. She did sound sincere, and he hesitantly decided to believe her after all. It was a relief, letting go of that little, nagging worry that she might resent him. He would have accepted it, deserved as it was, but it would have been a real shame.

The twig disappeared entirely and Kiendra scowled at her empty hand. „What I'm trying to say and completely butchering is: I'm glad it happened, and that it was you. And that's because everything you did was exactly right, so... thank you. I'm really... thank you.“

He blinked, taken slightly off guard and certain that was just inexperience speaking, but pleasantly touched all the same. A genuine smile tugged at his lips. „You're most welcome. But I still feel like I did you an injustice.“

And there was his compulsive propriety, rearing its head and getting in his way again. He mentally kicked himself for not letting the matter rest. It wasn't like him to lose control over his words, but then he hadn't been this much out of his element for a long time. That made his thoughts slow and his mouth run off ahead of them.

He cringed inwardly as he watched Kiendra's shoulders tense. Maybe her hating him was inevitable after all, if for entirely different reasons than he'd worried about. Oh well, as long as they kept talking about this, she'd be distracted enough not to descend into grief. He had no inspiration for other conversational topics at the moment anyway. He tried to look apologetic while she rounded on him.

„Why are you so stubbornly holding on to guilt? What else do I have to say? I told you it was fine. Doesn't my word count for anything?“ Oh yes, she was definitely annoyed. The frosty glare she levelled at him was impressively menacing. It reminded him of someone momentarily, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Instead he blundered on in voicing all his doubts. In for a bronze bit...

„I accept that.“ Well, he was working on it. „And I am glad that you don't fault me for my actions. I simply cannot help feeling a little inadequate.“ Which was quite the understatement. Even if he believed she was fine with it, even if she meant all that about a rite of passage, that he of all people had done it was, to him, inexusable.

He had worried enough about just fucking her, that could have turned out all sorts of bad, but this – this transformed him from some guy who comforted her in an hour of need into someone special, someone who did something unique with her.

„Inadequate.“ She inquired sourly. And maker, that glare was truly something, he could see it winning half her fights for her.

He smiled apologetically. „I feel like the worst possible choice for that particular deed.“ That was the plain truth, but it occurred to him belatedly that he'd have to sort through what he could and couldn't offer as explanation.

The glare morphed into utter bafflement. „What makes you think that?“

Because he'd be dead soon and she deserved to have someone by her side, someone to share a bond with over the experience, he thought, but aloud he said: „You could have picked someone younger in camp.“

Her face twisted in disgust. „Really? _That's_ bothering you? It's not like I have to marry you, you know. Besides, you're a fine man, I don't see you rotting away yet.“

Only because she couldn't look inside his head. He suppressed a shudder. „Thank you for saying that, but you need not bolster my ego. We're both aware I was the only option available. I'm glad you can find no fault with me, but with time, this may become a painful memory when it should have been a moment of joy.“ Again he'd said too much. He wanted to be distracting, not depress Kiendra further.

She shook her head in disbelief. „Duncan. Why would this become... I mean, circumstances aside, this was good. Which I already said. Why wouldn't I remember it fondly?“

Yep, he'd definitely said too much and talked himself into a corner. He couldn't tell her the true reasons, so he made a weak attempt at humour. „I imagine a lady like you must have dreamed to be deflowered by a handsome, young nobleman who's madly in love, on a soft bed strewn with rosepetals or some such setting.“ That's how he assumed most girls dreamed about it. For a moment he worried he'd gone off in the wrong direction and set Kiendra on the path of memory after all, but it slid past her.

She snorted, loudly and very much not like a lady. „For the last time, to be clear. I find being _deflowered...“,_ her lips twisted distastefully around the word, „ _..._ by a seasoned warrior, on the hard forest floor, while on the run and aching all over, suits my taste just fine.“ She rose, dusted off her knees and returned to the leafy seat, which was rather scattered and flattened by now. He made room for her on the gambeson so she could sit down beside him and she sighed, closing her eyes in bliss as she stretched her legs out.

He couldn't argue with that. She couldn't really know much about her tastes yet, but she did seem like the sort to enjoy this sort of thing over rose petals and silk sheets. „Still, it shouldn't have been someone who doesn't even...“ He stopped himself, not having intended to say that aloud, but she finished the sentence for him.

„Who doesn't even feel anything for me? Relax, of course you don't. You barely know me. I'm not some sentimental Orlesian damsel you need to sweettalk.“

Now he was the one to snort loudly. „I noticed. And I was going to say 'doesn't even love you', which, you may notice, sounds a tiny bit less drastic. I hope you are aware that by implying complete indifference you're making me look like a cold, lecherous arsehole.“

Her head whipped around to face him, eyes wide. „Oh? So you do have some feelings towards me? Is this the moment you confess your undying love?“ It took him a moment of mental flailing to realize she was joking. One corner of her mouth had risen a fraction, just barely a smile, but compared to what he'd seen of her up till now it was a brilliant sunrise after a week of thunderstorms.

Relief swamped him and made his laugh come out barely this side of hysterical. „Ha, dream on whelp. You're two decades late for that.“

„Oh poo. And here I was plotting on becoming the commander's pampered favourite and have all the camp do my bidding.“ She pouted for all of two heartbeats, then turned away and started bowing and rotating her rump to stretch her back.

Joking. He could do joking. „No chance of that anyway - you'll be my subordinate and as such too lowly to meet my standards.“ A persistant twinge in his lower back made him wish he could still bow that far.

Something in Kiendra's back popped and she gave a contented sigh. „Thus dies my girlish dream. All right, so no unding love for me, and not total indifference either. Hm. How about... desperate desire?“ She shot him a piercing glare he only recognized from context as an exaggerated seductive glance.

His eyebrow twitched. „Not me who was desperate, as we established earlier, so no.“

She pulled up her legs and hugged them, propping her chin on her knees. „Hm, something less carnal then. Maybe... adoring awe?“

He snorted. „High opinion of yourself? Try again.“

Once again she couldn't keep up the ridiculous pout. „Innocent infatuation? Fleeting fancy?“

He raised his eyebrows and regarded her sceptically. „I thought you were no Orlesian damsel? Because I think I'm hearing one.“

She threw a handful of leaves at him, but the tiny almost-smile returned. „Fraternal fondness then.“

He pretended to ponder, hand stroking his beard. „Can it be fraternal if you are a woman?“ Kiendra's gaze flicked away for just a heartbeat, but she was back with a another offer immediately, so he filed it away for later.

„Friendly fascination?“ She asked, fingers drumming against her ankle.

He cocked his head, nodding. „Still a bit over the top, but getting there.“

She threw up her hand in defeat. „Why don't you propose something then. I'm running out of alliterations.“

He sat up straighter. „Me? I did not start this. You were doing fine, please continue.“

„Spoilsport. If I have to name your feelings you have to name mine.“ She returned to her resting pose, eyes fixed on him, waiting.

Well, that smile was worth the effort. He wrecked his brain to find something appropriately ridiculous. „What do you say to arising attraction?“ Maker, he was bad at this.

She scrunched up her face in thought, or maybe to suppress a laugh, then shook her head. „Naah, too future-oriented. Battle, darkspawn, Rendon Howe, let's not get carried away.“

„Reverent respect?“ There, that was better.

She frowned and pointed a finger at him. „Now who has the overly high opinion of themself?“

He raised an eyebrow. „What are you saying, overly? As Warden Commander, I am entitled to a certain degree of conceit. But if you insist... I am willing to accept appreciative admiration.“

The frown did not lessen. „But don't those words mean nearly the same thing? When you admire something, you appreciate it, too. Maybe the other way around, admiring appreciation? Is that better? I'm not sure...“

He waved her off. „Nevermind that. The only thing that matters is: does the description fit?“

„Hm. No. I mean I appreciate you, and I'm sure you're impressive, but I haven't seen you do anything that admirable just yet.“ She said with a twinkle in her eye and a small, teasing smirk.

He huffed, watching her closely. It was like her cheeks neded to get reaccustomed to pulling her lips further up, he mused. He was out of ideas and decided to end the game while things were looking good. „Well then, it's not an alliteration, but how about mild affection?“ He offered with a genuine smile.

She swallowed whatever she had planned to say, looking sheepish. „Mild but...mutual?“

„I certainly hope so.“ He said warmly, and he meant it.

Success! The smile returned, still tiny, but just a fraction more confident. „That sounds reasonable.“

Duncan nodded. „Mild affection it is then.“

„Agreed.“ Kiendra stuck out her hand with a mock-serious expression, which he did his best to mimic while sealing the deal with a handshake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this wasn't supposed to be the longest chapter at all, how did that happen... I guess I'll have to scratch „not talkative" from Kiendra's character description XD

Kiendra smiled, and Duncan was glad to see that this time the expression deserved to be called by that name, even if it could still be paired with the attribute 'tentative'.

Letting go of his hand, she asked: „Now that we've established our mutual mild affection, would you object to a bit of cuddling? Does that fall within the boundaries of the agreement? It's getting cold, we have only the one blanket and I'm not getting back into those smelly clothes anytime soon.“

He chuckled and unwrapped the blanket. She slipped in beside him as he lay down and spread it out over them. After some wriggling they found a position comfortable for them both, with Duncan on his back and Kiendra mostly draped over his chest. She was heavy, but the weight felt good on him, and it occurred to him that he was actually allowed to enjoy, maybe even try and relax a little.

He had, after all, succeeded in his task, despite the unforseen complication. Everything had worked out, he'd kept the taint under control, he had apparently been a help and his recruit didn't hate him. He still wasn't quite happy with the situation, but there was nothing more he could do. Right now there was a naked woman on top of him who for some reason wanted to be there, and who he had no more obligations toward for tonight.

Not that he didn't have _desires_ towards her. The whispers in his head disturbed his rest, crawling back from their banishment and clamoring for attention. He swatted them back impatiently, and strangely enough it was easier than before. Or maybe there was nothing strange to it. He had conquered them once, while performing an act of passion, and he could certainly do so again while lying there peacefully.

And that in itself would be difficult enough, unfamiliar as it was. Idle time for peaceful dozing just wasn't something he was granted frequently, and neither was peaceful sleep. He hoped for Kiendra's sake that the nightmares would spare him tonight. She needed and deserved a full night's sleep to regain her strength. His palm started to wander over her back absently, and she stirred. He stilled, not wanting to disturb her when she was drifting off. „Sorry.“ He whispered.

She shook her head slightly, pressing her cheek into his chest with each move. „It's fine. Feels nice. Soothing.“

Well, soothing was exactly what was required, so he continued to slowly trace the outlines of muscles and bones wherever he could reach comfortably. Kiendra wriggled some more, then sighed contendedly, melting into him.

Oh yes, this was very nice and he _would_ enjoy it while it lasted. Which proved to be easier said than done, as he found out after a while. He was again reminded how woefully unaccustomed he was to being this close to another person. Everything was pleasant, but at the same time unfamiliar and distracting. He was acutely aware of Kiendra's body in all the places it touched his, of her breath stirring his chesthair, of the few wispy strands of hair that had escaped her hairtie and were tickling his shoulder. He was also quite warm, between the blanket, Kiendra's body and the low campfire which she all but shielded him from.

All that kept him uncomfortably alert, no matter how much he wanted to let go of his tension. He had to work himself into accepting every seperate little thing, convincing his mind that it was fine, that there was no danger and that it was allowed to indulge feel good about it. Slowly and deliberately, little by little, he willed himself to relax.

He suceeded with his body only, which he still counted as an accomplishment. He also managed to calm his nerves to a certain degree. But between his fretful mind, the unfamiliar sensations and the nagging whispers and suppressed urges that stirred at each new path his hand took, at each time Kiendras chest expanded against his, sleep remained distant.

Attempting to occupy himself instead, Duncan allowed his thoughts to drift back toward the matter of Kiendra's virginity. He still struggled to fully wrap his mind around what had happened.

Should he not have felt it? _Had_ he felt it? He had been more intent on her face at the time. She had hissed when he entered her, but there had been no indication to take it for anything but lust. He had never taken a virgin before. He had known a few though, as well as heard a few stories, and now that he thought about it, there were often hints indicating their lack of experience, an air of shyness maybe, or a certain clumsiness, sometimes efforts to conceal those very hints. He went through Kiendra's actions an reactions throughout the night and came to the conclusion that there had been no clues whatsoever, at any point.

He debated himself whether to address that. He knew he should probably just let it go and sleep, eventually, but he was wide awake and in the end curiosity won over caution. He would not have woken Kiendra up for it, but her breathing indicated she, too, had a difficult time falling asleep.

He gently kneaded her thigh to get her attention before he spoke. „You don't behave like a virgin. Or recent virgin even.“

She tensed beneath his hands. „Still going on about that?“

He rubbed her arm in apology. „It bothers me. I'm working on accepting things. No rushing an old man.“ He tried to keep his voice warm and humorous. „I'm just wondering how I didn't notice.“

She huffed irritatedly, but relaxed. She was silent for a while and he assumed she was truly fed up with the subject and drifting into sleep, when she spoke after all. „Well, I was only technically a virgin.“ She mumbled into his chest but he was learning to recognize the amusement in her raspy voice.

Intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. „And how, pray tell, does that work?“

She turned so she could look at him, placing her chin on top of her hands over his breastbone. There was definitely an amused glint in her eyes when they met his. „Well, there are more ways than one a woman can... receive a man.“

His second eyebrow joined the first somewhere along the hairline. That certainly explained the lack of shame to a certain degree. He felt the urge to laugh at himself, but suppressed it out of habit, protecting his air of dignity. He shouldn't act so surprised. He was giving the impression he knew absolutely nothing of young womens' habits. No matter that it was absolutely true. „Of course, how foolish of me. Most experiment with hands and mouth first, there's no reason nobility should be any different.“ If she could speak freely of this, so could he. He was _not_ trying to fluster her, that would be ridiculous and inappropriate, why would he do that.

Kiendra's lips quirked into an actual smile now, just short of showing teeth. Maybe it was the firelight dancing on her face, but he could swear it turned mischievious just before she spoke. „Yeah, that helps, but I didn't mean any of those options.“ He blinked.

Wait, she couldn't mean...

That did it. Duncan burst into deep laughter, shaking so much he dislodged Kiendra from his chest, who rolled away grinning broadly, tangled in the blanket. He rolled to his side and curled up, some of his tension bleeding from him through the laughter. This whole situation was absurd. It was a slap in his face for taking everything so seriously. The dog perked up and watched him curiously for a while before giving a huff that sounded suspiciously disdainful and returning to sleep.

As Duncan calmed down, Kiendra was watching him not unlike the dog, propped up on one elbow, cheek resting on her fist. He sat up and shook his head at her, still wheezing and chuckling quietly, pushing lose strands of hair from his face. „And how did a sheltered noblewoman come to learn such a thing?“

The grin now came easily to her face, and whatever else he'd done this night, he knew he had done at least something right. Mirth, relief and affection warmed him from within, melting away more of the strain he'd had so much trouble getting rid of.

„From an Orlesian. Father took me to Denerim to do busines with a merchant. I spent a few very enlightening evenings with his son, learning to circumvent my... nobility problem.“

Seeing her grow somber again as her thoughts returned to her father, Duncan intervened quickly.„Somehow I feel a lot less guilty now. Why didn't you tell me that at the very beginning? That would have worked.“ He leaned back, leaning on his arms, and crossed his ankles. He felt good and almost comfortable, and he refused to be bothered by being naked and on display while she was covered, especially when earlier the situation had been reversed.

„What, spill all my dirty secrets before my future commander, in addition to bawling like a little girl, soaking his shirt in snot and throwing myself at him like a cheap whore?“ Kiendra's face twisted in exaggerated revulsion. „Hm, in hindsight, yes, I should have just told you. I guess your opinion of me can't possibly be ruined any further.

He picked up on a current of insecurity beneath the humorous words and was quick to assert: „None of that lowers my opinion of you. Some young man in your future is going to be very lucky.“

She looked away for a heartbeat, expression inscrutable, but soon the amused glint was back. „Just one?“ She teased.

He huffed. „May you have as many as you wish, in any way you wish. I'm sure you'll meet plenty of nice, adventurous men you can play with.“

„Can you recommend anyone?“ He was starting to respond when the grin returning to her face, now decidedly toothy, clued him in. He sputtered, torn between amusement and indignation. „You devious little...no, I can not 'recommend' anyone.“

„How sad, there goes another dream. Are you sure? I won't tell.“ She lowered her voice to a stage- whisper and leaned in conspiratorially. „Give me some dirty secrets, now that you know mine. I'm sure there are some juicy stories a man like you can tell. I recall rumours concerning the stamina of Grey Wardens? Is there some Warden lucky enough to test yours?“

He scrambled for his dignity, struggling to keep a straight face. „As already mentioned, I do not do my subordinates anyway. So no. I am pure as fresh snow, a paragon of virtue, and that's the story I'm sticking with. Where do you even get such ideas?“ He asked exasperatedly. „Orlesian merchants again? More crimes against Ferelden to put at the feet of Orlais?“

She backed away and rested her head on her bicep, stretching the arm out on the ground. „Oh, noble girls like to gossip. Also, they read awful romance novels. I, of course, never touched those, so do wipe that smirk off your face. Didn't stop me from listening when girls talked. There was this daughter of one of our bannermen, she had a crush on Gil, I mean Ser Gilmore, and for some reason thought it a good idea to embarass him with all kinds of those stories. Poor guy...“ She trailed off, staring into space. Ser Gilmore, Duncan remembered belatedly, had stayed to defend Highever's main hall. He rolled to his side and reached towards Kiendra's shoulder, then remembered there was no reason to restrict himself to proper gestures, and instead ran a hand up her flank. She jumped slightly, pulled from reminiscence, and turned a faint smile towards him.

„Don't worry, I'm not breaking apart again. Your shirt is safe for now. Or rather, your chesthair is safe, since you're not wearing your shirt, obviously.“ She drew a shaky breath, and he gently squeezed the soft flesh over her ribs. „I'm sad, of course I'm sad. But I can manage for now. It will fade. Besides, I'm going to be a Grey Warden, which is all I ever dreamed of. I'll be fine, eventually. Unless of course, you know. Spear to the stomach or something.“

He pulled her forward gently, and she followed readily, reclaiming her place across his chest and fitting more of her body to him than could be comfortable. He soothingly stroked her back in wide, slow circles. „Are you scared?“

„Of battle? No. Not yet, anyway. Maybe I will be. Right now I couldn't care less.“

„Of course.“ He slipped his other hand into her hair, freeing the already loosened hairtie and placing it in the direction of the fire, in hopes of finding it the next day. „Just relax for now. I am confident that you will do well, both in battle and in handling your grief.“ He combed through her hair and proceeded to massage her scalp, feeling her melt back into him. Her hand hesitantly kneaded and stroked his chest and arm in tiny motions. He could get used to this. He wished he had the time to get used to this.

If he was honest, he was a tiny bit glad she still needed the comfort, which gave him an excuse to enjoy her closeness a little longer, as much as he could, anyway. It was a wonder to him that she would allow all this, that she felt so relaxed with him. „I'm still baffled you'd even want to touch this old man.“ He said half-honestly, teasingly, knowing full well she'd be irritated, but trying to lighten the mood.

She groaned and pinched his hip. Hard. He barely swallowed a yelp. „You're not going to give it a rest, are you? For the last time, I enjoyed it and would do it again. I feel infinitely better. I appreciate your help. Really, thank you. Now, why don't you just feel flattered, say I'm welcome and go to sleep?“

He chuckled and rubbed at the burning skin. „All right, you're welcome, and I do feel flattered.“

It was true. How could he not? Maybe he really had done everything right, and he could just allow himself to feel good about it. His guilt had mostly evaporated. And he felt less like a fool and a trespasser. There was no harm done. The way things were, he could live with the situation if she could, and stop worrying about it. He really had more pressing worries to consider. Tomorrow. He would consider them when the time came. For now, sleep was becoming truly inviting and perhaps even attainable.

While he still had the same difficulties as before, it was easier now to relax and fully enjoy the woman atop of him. His hands continued to move automatically over her head and back. Things had worked out. He was comfortable and so was she. Maybe this time he could bring himself to unwind enough to fall asleep like this.

 

Before he restarted the meticulous process of relaxation though, something she had said came back to nag at him. „Is it really?“ He asked softly.

„Hm?“ She hummed drowsily.

„Being a Grey Warden. Is it really all you ever dreamed of?“

She rolled off him to lie on her back, and he propped himself up on one elbow to look at her. Hands behind her head, she stared gravely into distance. „Let's see... devoting my life to a higher purpose than just staying alive and reproducing. Spending most of that life in combat. Being able to fight and kill without guilt, because darkspawn.“ An expression of intense longing slid over her face while her voice grew quieter. „Being part of an order, having comerades to share my life with. Who maybe, hopefully, become close friends... yes, that pretty much sums it up.“

That was a less idealistic description of the order than he had come to expect. Why that still surprised him with this one he couldn't fathom.

„You sound like you're going to be truly dedicated. Which is good, because becoming a Grey Warden is irreversible and very demanding. It's a commitment for life.“ He was so used to keeping the Order's secrets he barely even felt the stab of guilt anymore.

„I know. I am. I mean I'm going to be dedicated. I meant it, I really have daydreamed about becoming a Grey Warden.“ She glanced his way with a flash of embarassment.

That was promising, but then she didn't know the dirty details yet. No matter, she had already agreed, and there was little else she could be planning to do with her life, now that her home and station had been taken from her. Little else, except... „So you are not planning to seek vengeance against Howe?“

Her face closed off and she remained silent for a while, staring through him and hiding her thoughts as well as before the breakdown. He almost regretted brining it up, but she seemed in a talkative mood, and some things were better cleared up in advance. This was far more important than the matter of virginity and how this night may or may not affect her in the future. This was about her quality as a Warden. He even barely hated himself for thinking this way - for letting duty eclipse the person, much the way he'd been treating himself.

When she spoke, her voice was alarmingly quiet, all emotion filtered from it. „I would love to smash his face in with my bare hands, beat him within an inch of his life and then split him in half like the pig he is. Or better yet, have him sentenced and humiliated before his peers, destroy his name and his legacy and rub his face in it before he's hanged like a common bandit.“ She took a long, deep breath, her glittering eyes belying her calm. „But if what you say is true, if there is a Blight coming, that is more important than anything. Maybe after it's over I will seek vengeance. As much as it sickens me to let that piece of shit sully Highever, even if I got it back I wouldn't be able to keep it. But maybe the king and the banns will take care of that, I can't imagine they'd let him get away with murder. I should probably write down exactly what happened, in case I die...“ She trailed off, lost in thought.

Duncan's heart swelled with pride, tinged with a hint of sadness. If she lived, she'd be the perfect Grey Warden. Determined, calculating and willing to sacrifice her personal matters for the good of all. There was no more he could ask for. „Yes, you should do that.“

She glanced at him, confusion spreading across her features. „Judging by your look, that was the right answer?“

„Was it the honest answer?“ He reached out to push a strand of hair from her forehead.

She blinked, and he wondered what she saw on his face that bewildered her so. „Of course.“

„Then yes, I'm very glad you see it this way. Revenge never accomplishes anything. Thwart his plans if you can. Hate him, but don't let that hatred poison your thoughts and dominate your actions.“ There he went off again, preaching at her even when her attitude was already reasonable. He really was a lost cause.

Luckily she didn't seem annoyed. „I will keep that in mind.“ She answered solemnly.

He smiled warmly. „I know you will.“ What else had he wanted to respond to? There had been something plainly important to her... Ah yes. „And don't worry about the other Wardens. I believe you will easily make friends among them.“ His hand was still in her hair, and he combed through it slowly.

„You really think so?“ She looked away, embarrased, deeper shadows sliding over her face and obscuring her expression.

„I am sure.“ He knew his men and could see her getting along with them all. „Although living with that bunch of ruffians may take some getting used to. They are a friendly lot who take good care of their own. I see no reason why they should reject you.“ He knew Alistair felt at home already, though he had the advantage of having lived in barracks for years.

„Hm. I hope you're right.“ She all but whispered, and the barely discernable emotions flickering across her face gave him pause.

His hand slid down to cup her jawbone and coax her head back around to face him. „This is a relief for you, why? Were you afraid they wouldn't accept you in their midst because you're a woman? It is true we do not have many, and none in Ferelden at the moment, but female warriors have not been regarded as abnormal for a long time, and not just within the order.“

She shifted nervously, just the eyes turning away since her head was obstructed by Duncan's hand. „It's not that. I mean, it can be a piece of work to be taken seriously sometimes, but I can deal with that. I've been told I'm good at dealing with that.“ She flashed him a quick, smug grin.

„I can attest to that.“ He lightly flicked her earlobe with his index finger. „Then what were you woried about?“

Her face transformed again, and this time he could clearly see it: shame, fear and insecurity warred with hope and yearning, molding her expression into something shy, almost fragile. He marvelled how this and the stony face from the previous days could belong to the same person.

„It's nothing.“ She clearly tried to smoothe her features, but he had seen enough.

„It is not nothing if it puts a look like that on you. It is not my wish to pry, and of course you need not tell me if you'd rather not.“ His fingers slid down to hold her chin loosely. „I simply want to help if you are troubled, and I can see that you are. You have enough on your mind already. Let me see if I can lay some of your worries to rest.“ He let go of her face and it immediately it turned away, but not before he saw it darken. It might have been a trick of the light, but it might also have been a blush. Who would've thought he'd get to witness that after all.

„You'll laugh.“ Kiendra mumbled, her hands sliding out from beneath her head and meeting in the air above her chest, fidgeting with each other.

„I promise I won't.“ His free hand moved in sympathy, finding a convenient leaf to crumple while Kiendra's left hand absently massaged the right.

„It's just... my father's soldiers and retainers were exactly that, my father's. I was never one of them, no matter how much I trained with them. Because I was my father's daughter. I... have wished for the camraderie I saw among them.“

„Ah. That is not a laughing matter at all.“ He knew a thing or two about being lonely, about keeping distance.

Encouraged, she went on to elaborate. „I think there's something special about fighting at someone's side... you know, spilling blood beside them, relying on them to protect your back and protecting theirs in turn. You probably think it's silly and maybe it's just a sheltered girl's dream, but... it's one of the reasons I... I really wanted that, and until recently I could only dream... there was no way...“ Her hands continued to knead and tug at each other nervously.

He cought her forearm just beneath the wrist and the fidgeting stilled immediately. He simply held the arm in a soft grip until Kiendra looked at him questioningly. He met her eyes with all the gravity he could muster.

„I haven't had many friends in my life. But the the best of those, I have fought and bled beside. If you want there to be something special, a bond of true strength, you will find those who feel the same way. And you were not wrong to dream of the Grey Wardens, for they are one of the best places you can go to looking for that.“ Well, _his_ Grey Wardens were, and that was what mattered.

She closed her eyes, her relief plain when she breathed: „Thank you.“

He let go of her forearm, rubbing it reassuringly, if somewhat clumsily. „I brought your thoughts back around to serious matters, didn't I? I'm sorry. I should have just let you sleep. Again. Truly, I apologise.“

She shook her head and looked up at him, a shy smile playing around her lips. „No, it's fine. I'm glad we had this conversation.“ She shuffled back to him, pressing against his side when he turned to lie back down. He slid his arm under her head so his shoulder could act as a pillow, and wrapped the arm loosely around her back, hand coming to rest upon her waist. He resolved to keep his mouth shut this time. It was really time to sleep.

 

„Very glad.“ Kiendra repeated, her hand wandering across his chest idly while she made herself comfortable. For the third time, Duncan commenced making himself relax and enjoy, but the slow strokes of that hand proved to be more distracting than anything else had been. When her palm skimmed over a nipple, presumably by accident, goosebunps rose all over his body. She hesitated, then did it again, and a jolt shot to his groin, making him shiver. Now that was just mean. He felt her lips twitch against his shoulder. Oh, good, at least his troubles could serve as a source of amusement. Before he could formulate some teasing comment, she spoke first.

„In fact...glad enough to be ready for another round. All this talk about fighting got me riled up.“ She paused, as if surprised at her own words, then shuddered. Before he could ask what was wrong though, or even wrap his mind around what she meant, she heaved herself up abruptly, throwing off the blanket, straddling his thighs and giving the seductive look another shot, with significantly better results this time. It only became a relatively mild glare, tempered by a wicked smile. „Actually, let's do it for you this time.“

„What?“ Every alarm bell in his head went off at that, wiping all amusement away at once.

„For you. You held back before, I can tell, and you stopped when I was done. Which I am grateful for, by the way. But now I'm reasonably aware of what I'm doing. And I hope you can finally believe me when I say I enjoyed you. I want to do something for you, in return.“

His hands shot up, firmly wrapping around her elbows, stopping her in her tracks. „Thank you, but that is not necessary.“ Indulging himself was exactly what he'd been determined to avoid, and still was. He was a bit at a loss how to explain that, however.

Kiendra shrugged, her confidence faltering. „I know. But I want to do it. I promise it's not that I feel indebted or some such crap. I just... feel like it.“

„I believe you. And I do appreciate the offer, really I do. I just don't think we should. What I think we should do is sleep, we've little enough time left of the night as it is.“ There, that was a reasonable argument.

„I think you think too much. Let's remedy that.“ She grinned, but sobered soon enough when he did not react at all, his mind racing to find a graceful way out. „I mean it, you should give yourself a break. You're so... composed all the time. I can tell you're holding a tight reign on yourself. Let me help you loosen it up for a while. Kind of like you did for me, only without all the crying, I hope.“

He blinked a few times, taken aback. Oh well. He hadn't expected her to see that, preoccupied as she was. But it made sense, since they were rather similar in that area. „It may look similar, but it is not. I should not be loosening up.“

Her eyebrows shot up sceptically. „Not even a little? I would really like to see how you look when you do. Please?“ She was regaining momentum, and this was moving quickly into dangerous territory.

It was simply too tempting. Already unwanted urges were crawling back into his head. But even without them, his body reacted readily, still remembering how it felt to be inside her. Especially in the position they were in, with his cock trapped so close to where it wanted to go, and its every twitch no doubt clearly announcing its growing interest to Kiendra. For a moment he debated throwing her off, but that would just be too rude after such an earnest invitation. He took a steadying breath. „You have no idea what it is you're asking for.“

For a moment he nurtured the hope she would back off when she studied his face intently. „Maybe I don't. Why, what do you want to do? Hurt me? I'm not squeamish. I won't mind a few bruises. And if I really don't like it, I'll tell you. I promise.“

A red fog flooded his mind at those words, and he was almost deafened by the cacophony it bore. He fought to regain his senses, and when he did, he was painfully hard. So was his grip on Kiendra's elbows, and he tried to loosen it up a little, breathing deeply, evading her curious gaze. This was bad and getting worse, and the worst was that he felt his resolve crack. „You can't just go and offer that to people you barely know. You have to see that has the potential to end very badly.“

She shrugged, or tried to, with her arms trapped. Instead the motion made her bear down on him ever so slightly, sending an electrifying jolt up his spine. He gasped and fought down the urge to grind his hips up in answer, while she watched his reaction curiously. „I'm not offering it to people, I'm offering it to you. You've been trustworthy so far.“

That was very flattering, and luckily worked like a bucket of cold water. Had he seriously considered going along with this even for a heartbeat? The voices bore down on his restraints, urging him to give in, but he held against them the image of her, huddled against him and shaking with uncontrolled sobs, the image of her shy almost-smile, the image of her vulnerability as she bared her hopes to him. He would not risk harming her. He would keep being trustworthy. It was the most effective tactic he had tried yet, and the dark urges retreated somewhat, clamoring in the background, impatient, never quiet but no longer overwhelming. Which still left him with a raging hard-on, straddled by a willing woman, but at least that urge was normal.

He had grown short of breath from the internal struggle. „Thank you. But I can't. I'm sorry.“ He could see Kiendra was not about to give up. He had to put a stop to this, and he prepared to gently move her away, but she thwarted his plans.

„Why not? Your body surely can...“ She wiggled a little to call attention to the very interested piece of him wedged between her buttocks. Sparks shot up his spine right into his head, making him see stars, but he managed to stay in control this time, just barely. His grip tightened again and they both froze, Kiendra looking faintly apologetic, but no less determined.

Breathing raggedly, he couldn't think clearly enough to think up something smart, so he stuck to pieces of truth and tried to impart urgency through his gaze. „Please understand. I have reasons. Reasons I can't tell you. I am not sure I could make it pleasurable for you. I don't want to hurt you, but I'm not sure I could help myself, and that's more than I should even be saying.“

Her brow furrowed. „But that's exactly what I'm saying! I don't care if you hurt me. I'm already hurting. A bit more won't matter. You need not worry about me, I don't even care about coming. I'm probably too exhausted to, anyway. Just let me do this for you.“

He could see she was getting ready to move again, and he grit his teeth. „Don't. You did me plenty good already, you made me feel comfortable. I enjoyed having you close, and I even relaxed as much as I could. I need nothing more. Let it go.“

His grip had to be painful by now, but she made no move to free herself. She smiled at his words, but shook her head. „It's not only for you. Now want to see what you will do for yourself. You made me curious, you know. Show me who you are, Duncan of the Grey Wardens.“ She swiveled her hips after all, grinding hard against him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying for the willpower to resist while his body went up in fireworks.

„Please“ He pressed out through gritted teeth. „That's enough. Stop this or I'll throw you off, I mean it.“

That at last made her pause and deflate a bit. She frowned thoughtfully. „What are you, some kind of sex-berserker? If I punch you, will you stop?“

„I... what?“ He considered it. Would he? Or would it just make him angry and let the taint overwhelm him? He had never been prone to bursts of anger, even since the dreams and the whispers started. Had not lost to the taint yet, and it was apparently strongest in a sexual context. A solid punch should get him out of the mood long enough to get his bearings, but... _should_. „I'm not sure. I can't be sure.“ Too late he realized he had allowed the idea to take root. He shouldn't be even thinking about this, damn it.

Of course she jumped into the opening. „Why not find out? If it goes wrong, at least you'll know. I'd still have done something for you. I swear I won't hold it against you.“

„If it goes wrong you might not be able to hold anything.“ He was getting desperate, trying to scare her off when he already suspected it wouldn't work.

Predictably, her brows furrowed. „Come on, give me some credit. If you want to assure me I'll be taken seriously, start right now. You may be stronger and heavier, but I do know how to brawl. I won't be held down if I don't want to be.“

He seriously doubted that, not when she had no actual combat experience to draw from, but he certainly wouldn't tell her that if she put it this way. „It's a needles risk.“

And yet he was still considering it, his resolve faltering. He knew it was wrong. He knew it could end in disaster. But he couldn't help but wish... to be able to let go, to selfishly satisfy himself, to be invited to do just that... maybe if he satisfied his body, the urges would stop being so...urgent. He felt like he was grasping at straws, rationalizing what he had already half decided to do.

He didn't notice his grip on Kiendra's arms had loosened until she was already leaning down, face hovering inches above his.

„I won't let you harm me. Promise.“ The way her pelvic bone pressed and rocked against him he could no longer help but let his hips move in unison, and the feeling was such a pure delight he drowned in it for a moment. Meanwhile she closed the distance and pressed her lips against his.

„I want it.“ She whispered, then bit his lower lip. The tiny spike of pain sparked a violent surge of raw desire. Reason fluttered out under the onslaught, and Duncan's resolve broke.

Effortlessly he flipped the pair of them over and pressed Kiendra's unresisting hands into the dirt.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has been bothering me for a while. It's actually the first fanfic I ever wrote, right after finishing the game in 2012 or so. Then I lost it in a harddrive crash (because who needs backups, right?), rewrote it from scratch, recreating the original wording wherever I could remember it, adding new parts and scrapping some that I couldn't get to make sense anymore. I returned to it again and again, adding and rewriting passages all over the place. Obviously my style and intentions changed over time, so in places I had trouble fitting the pieces together seamlessly and got immensely frustrated. I fussed over it for years.  
> I'm not sure I'm happy with the result, it still feels weird and choppy to me in places, but I hope it's just because I'm aware of the patchwork. If you noticed a seam, let me know so I can agonize over it some more. Anyway, I'm fed up with it. It's not perfect, but I just have to face the fact that it's not going to be, and I just want it out before I edit the living daylights out of it. I don't want it to become totallly unrecognizable.  
> Honestly I wasn't even sure if I wanted to upload it, but then the whole ordeal had to be good for something. And poor Duncan gets so little attention nowadays.
> 
> Tl;dr: I'm not entirely happy with this, but I had to finally throw it out here so I can stop fretting over it and go back to working on Takes One. Thank you for reading.


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